Sunday, August 18, 2013

When I was in
fifth Grade my Teacher, Mrs. Heights read us 'The Whipping Boy”by Sid Fleischman I
remember lying my head down with my eyes closed letting her words
play out like a movie in my mind. I remember wincing at the injustice I felt, and sooner realized in their way, both boys were victim to their circumstance.
If you have read it or seen the
movie, you know the premise is the story of a prince and his whipping
boy. The whipping boy was a poor orphan grateful for a job, a full belly and
opportunity for education in a trade for being punished for the
Princes' wrongdoings and ill behavior. After all there was a law in
the land forbidding spanking and punishment of the prince. Hence the
need for a Whipping Boy.

Sometimes I feel like that.
The
Whipping Mom.
Being punished for pain, abandonment, and loss
suffered at the separation between my children and their first
mothers. I am so sorry for both of their pain.
Still sometimes
baring the brunt of that pain sucks, like totally.
They don't talk
about this in the mountains of adoption books I read, or in the heart
touching lifetime movies I would ugly cry to while waiting,
desperate, empty armed for my little miracles.

Nowhere was I
told, you are a Replacement, the pain you feel in the wanting, they
might always feel in the loss of their first family.
You may be
the target of that pain.

We are coming up on four years of
some of my kids acclimation into our family, being in a family, or
knowing what one is period.

There have been four Mothers Days,
Christmas's and this week, birthdays.

As we have, and many
other families will, a test.
Holidays period, more so ones
celebrating the Mother, are for some reason sabotaged, destroyed,
attacked, and ruined.

For the last four years evidence's of my
cell phone being stolen so no calls of good Birthday wishes could be
made, urinated mattresses, missing gifts, marathon tantrums, entire
stolen cakes, and even once, my wedding ring being tossed in the
outside garbage, moments before the garbage men came; all these acts
speaking of mourning.

“What are they mourning? Sheesh, they
have a HOME, a FAMILY that loves them, and FOOD every single
day?
They should be GRATEFUL!”

Do you ever look at an
amputee and say to them, “gosh you should just be sooo grateful to
be alive.”
No of course not. You would be lessening their pain,
loss, and experience.

My kids know something, or someone is
missing. To tell them how lucky they are for their loss, how
fortunate that they have a replacement to something we all have a
biological right to is unfair. Worse, it is placating their pain.

I
have thought a lot about this. Why, why is celebrating me so hard?
We
are honestly at a point where I know they love me, and trust me, and
know I will protect and be there for them no matter what. They can
verbalize it and honestly want to be no where else...so then
why?

Because, for that one day, my day, I am not her. I am not
the original Mommy. On my day, I wonder if they feel the loss of her
greater? They stop and wonder deeply about her and mourn. If I can
think about it that way, it hurts less when they mess with my day.

I am taking the brunt of their pain, I
am her whipping boy.
Considering her loss, how her arms might have
ached, even if she physically, mentally, financially, whatever her
circumstances prevented her from parenting this child her loss and
pain is greater than mine.
And even on the worst of that day, I
see the gift in them.

We have significantly changed up my day
celebrations, for both me and them.

Gifts are handmade.
Ones
sent or given to me by my husband and healthier children are done in
private.
My main birthday is spent away that night, usually with
friends or in a blissful hotel room; sans tantrums, missing tooth
brushes and angry elves. Children that want to have a special night
away with me one on one get that.

We pick a “Family day” on a Saturday
to celebrate, one that my husband can be home for in case the
celebrations are too much, and one of the kids need to get away.
We
spend much of the day away, dancing, playing, keeping their minds on
activities that mildly are my choice.

“Why bother?”; a
friend asked this week.
Because someday with practice, these days
will bring less pain. Found in their depths, they do love me and want
me to have my day, but the mourning sometimes takes over, so we give
them and me safe ways to practice.
Practice may not make perfect,
but it makes; “slowly less painful”.

This year my “Family
Birthday day” was good, not perfect but very good.
I was
prepared.
We got up, dressed and headed out for breakfast.
To
the child that purposefully turned on the other bath tub, while I was
showering , “thanks babe, totally woke me up and got me going
today.”
To the child that was “too tired to get dressed and
wanted to go back to bed.”
I simply reply “Aw Sweetie, no
worries. You can wear your jammies to the restaurant and lay in the
booth.”

In my purse was 4 packages of Starburst.
Sweets
for the Sweet were given out indefinitely.
We hit a thrift store
and instead of Mom getting gifts, all the children were allotted $5
to pick out a new shirt, dress, whatever.
We came home for naps
and my sweetheart made me dinner.
The kids gave me hand made cards
and sang me songs.

As I thanked them for my day, three
children actively pointed out, HOW HARD they tried to hold it
together today, to show me that they love me. One child, that has
never managed giving me a single gift, wrote me a lovely letter.
One
even managed to joke about how last year they had woken up the day
before my birthday and eaten my entire cake the night before.
Another
admitted seeing my ringing cell phone while I was in the bathroom and
decided not to hide it.
And we giggled.

Progress.

All
in all it was beautiful.

Today, less than savory stuff has
gone down. Eh, I'll take it, it's gotta leak out somewhere, Right?
We
have all been gentle and given space for it.

In truth, I don't
know if my skin has gotten thicker and it hurts less, or the licks
are less forceful.
I would like to think both.
Either way, they
are my gift, and I am the replacement.
And that is something very
gently to celebrate, between the licks of course.

Saturday, August 3, 2013

Today as I was
messaging back and forth with a dear friend. We were commiserating
about
Chronic Pain. We both had recently received not-so-great
prognosis's.
We both (she much longer) have been living in some
intense unchanging, unrelenting pain.

Suck bags.

I related with her,
on how good days, you can celebrate and have gratitude for even the
smallest of things. On bad days, the pain weighs you down with
depression, grabbing you by the ankles and pulls you into a deep dark
hole of despair.

It's sorta like the fire-swamp of fantastic sucki-ness.

You dawn your sweats, ignore showering,
combing hair, looking nice, eating healthy and exercising.
You
just want to curl up in a ball and sleep for a very long time, and
the the insomnia seeps in, and even then sleep evades you. Things start feeling a mess. The pain begins to win.
Fear starts to reign, thoughts of;
“Am I always going to feel
this awful?”
“Nothing is good anymore.”
“There is
nothing to look forward to because no matter what I am going to
hurt.”
“Who would want to waste their time with me, I am no
fun.”
“What is the point of trying?”

Now because I am
an adult, and a mother, and genuinely a happy active person, I allow
me to be gentle with myself, but also don't take much of my own crap
for long.
Because I am emotionally pretty dern healthy and deep
down know what I need to do to get to a better place, I have to be
more aware of my pain cycle.

I nap, and get to bed a decent
times. I read powerful motivating things, I pray and meditate.
I talk to and lean on friends and family that cheer and sometimes drag me on.
I
get OUTSIDE and walk very slowly, because even in pain those endorphins kick in and
BAM, less pain. I eat fresh, whole food. I write down daily
gratitude’s.

I am capable of witnessing my pain cycle and
still it is hard for ME to pull MY sh-tuff together.

Today one
of my sweeties is circling a drain the yanks my chest open
.
Regardless of the boundaries we give her, she can't not control,
not self harm, not STOP behaviors that may soon land her getting some
intensive help.

We try to process with her natural
consequences, what our job is to keep her safe and what part of it is
her job. She can not do her part. She wants to, SOBS uncontrollably
about how hard she is trying, until she is in the moment...and then
contradictions are this swirly dance of nonsensical voodoo she holds
onto like a life line.

My husband just looked at me helpless
and said, how do we put her out of her misery?

And I choked up
a little.

This one specific kid, is in chronic pain.
Trauma
is chronic pain to far to many children.

And much like me they
get sucked into the Vortex of depression with their pain and
frustration.

Their pain is emotional and physical.
Their releases seen in self harm and mutilation, self hate and rejection of all things good. They feel unworthy.Their depression
witnessed in their lack of self care, hygiene, and food issues.
The
myths they tell their selves regardless of the good stuff we try to
pour in :
“ I always am going to feel this awful,” ie; I am a
bad kid, I will always be bad.
“Nothing is good anymore.” ie:
Never has been good, never WILL be good.”
“There is nothing to
look forward to because no matter what I am going to hurt.”
“Who
would want to waste their time with me, I am no fun.” ie; “My
family doesn't really love me, why would they.”
“What is the point of trying?”

What is the point of trying?

I
know, I know...
SUCK BAGS.

It is so sad that children
without tools are capable of this kind of pain, but know what? they
are.
For some children Trauma creates this all over chronic pain
that inhibits ever.single.thing. they do, believe, think and
react.

It is their cycle of pain.
Slowly many break out of
the pain, allow coping tools to be introduced, begin to believe the
pain can dissipate, or that regardless of the pain, they still can
have good days.
We as their compass are there to guide them through their pain, to show them the way. It is our job to
draw them a map, write
them directions and take them by the hand and give them tools to climb out of the dark abyss,
never minimizing the pain they feel.

Today while icing my back
I gave my girl physical reminders that noone but she has to know
about.
That she can LOVE her self, have fun, be happy, be kind,have good things, move on and that she is beautiful.

Reminding her even when she is in pain, she has and is capable of doing these things.
Tomorrow will she be back spiraling? Maybe. but maybe not, and so often it is dealing with the symptoms as they come, and her having the confidence to let me try and help alleviate some of that pain.

Pain can blind anyone, but for children it can feel so very hopeless.
To parent children in this kind of pain can feel so very hopeless.
But, together, side by side you can navigate through it slowly, lovingly.
Will the pain ever go away? I can't promise that.
But, there are good days and then more good days possible.

I promise. Cross my heart, and hope to .....be happy, be kind, and enjoy life.
er somthin' close to that.Now lets go storm that castle.
<3

Me, the crazy one they call Mama...

SO here's the thing....

I stink at blogging, no really I do...by the way I am dyslexic and can NOT spell worth a darn, but I write anyway.

I have the best of intentions...but life happens.

I am parenting NINE amazing kiddo's.One that is no longer safe enough to be in my home...and I mourn that, every day.This blog is about being flawed but doing the best you can do. It is about parenting some Fabulous kiddo's with some heartbreaking problems. We are just a family.A family living, laughing, crying and shaking it up as much as we can to ward off the effects of severe trauma, anxiety, depression, psychotic tendencies, suicidal ideation, addictions, bulimia, anorexia, ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder,Hording, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, they and we are surviving by the skin of their teeth, everyday, but we are NOT giving up.This blog is about surviving daily life with a child with type one diabetes... I am just a Mom, dedicated to MY children, dedicated to being a Forever Family, and giving some of these kids whom have never had a safe anything, a HOME: a soft place to fall.

Who this is Really for!

Sooo if you have found us and just started reading...
I am protecting my kids names out of respect. Lets be honest, if I am going to talk about their behaviors...they don't need their names out there...because it is the BEHAVIORS that are hard, it is the anger and destruction of the trauma that they experienced that needs to be named, my children are deep down good, with a whole lot of broken/nasty/ugly tossed over to disguise what is so wonderful about them.
I have six with trauma disorders. That is what is SO gosh darn HARD... they see it and are triggered some-days, by just looking into each others eyes.
MY AMAZING and sometimes ANGRY ELVES:
We have 2 bio kiddo's:

and 5, COUNT THEM F.I.V.E. Haitian Sensations .....

Our kiddo's came home 20 days after the Haitian Earthquake. Hubbie and I traveled to Haiti 10 days afterward. It has deeply changed, traumatized and effected our family in soooo many ways. So on top of some MAJOR Attachment issues, we are also all coping with PTSD, ODD, RAD, SPD and Borderline Personality Disorder....this is OUR Season of Healing.